


The Slayer School for Rehabilitation and Watcher Training

by angelinasway



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelinasway/pseuds/angelinasway
Summary: Ostracized from Wizarding society, Draco is determined to find a place in the world. In a moment of desperation he returns to Hogwarts to beg his old Professor, now Headmistress, for a job. What he gets in return is a whole world he only ever thought existed in fairy tales.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Buffy Summers, Hermione Granger/Willow Rosenberg
Comments: 24
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: First and foremost I'd like to thank Mizwax for taking the time to beta this chapter for me. You are truly a life saver hon.
> 
> Hello all, so I have a new project I've been working on and I'm hoping you all will enjoy it. I've only ever written for the Harry Potter verse once and it was so long ago when I go back and try to reread it I cringe at the horrible characterization and how little understanding I had of the world at the time. I'm hoping this time around I can do it justice. I'm going to be tweaking some aspects of the Statute of Secrecy and the myths surrounding vampires for my stories benefit, however I'm gonna try to follow as closely to cannon as I can with everything else. 
> 
> This story takes place both post Hogwarts and season seven of BTVS. I will be using some aspects from the comics for this story, but I do not plan on following cannon. I think that's everything, and I hope you all enjoy the story, now on with the show. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prologue

Draco Malfoy stood outside the Headmistress’s office, lightly banging his head on the stone wall behind him. This was it. The last place he could crawl to in the hopes of finding a decent paying job that was still in Wizarding Britain. Not that he needed the funds as of now, but one could never be too careful when it came to affording a living. In truth though, this wasn’t really about the money; it was more a matter of pride. It had been six years since the war, five of which were uneventful, or as uneventful as an ex-Death Eater could hope for.

The first year had been a bit rough. He stood trial for his crimes, and then had to endure his mother undergoing the same treatment. It was only in thanks to Potter and Granger that they had both escaped a stint in Azkaban. His father however, hadn’t been quite so lucky; and Draco was forced to watch with equal parts horror and relief as his father, a man he once admired so very much, was sentenced to ten years in that dungeon they dressed up as a prison. He had been angry and resentful at first, not that he hadn’t agreed with the sentencing per se, but it was still his father and as much as he had become ashamed of the man, he still loved him.

By the end of August, as Draco prepared himself to go back to Hogwarts and finish up his education, his anger had dissolved into a calm sort of reflective acceptance of the whole situation. He was honestly just grateful to be given the chance to sit for his N.E.W.Ts and finish his schooling. Hogwarts itself was almost exactly as he expected when he returned. Despite the massive renovations the castle had undergone, and aside from the first years, the students who had returned were all who he expected to see. The loathing and suspicion on their faces was also nothing new to him.

What was new however, were the two people who made it clear to the other students that Draco was off limits. The first of them being Blaise Zabini. He was shocked, yet pleasantly surprised, when Zabini had sat next to him in the Great Hall that first day. They were never very close in school, at least not the way he had been with Crabbe and Goyle. Draco also always suspected that Zabini was a half-blood and secretly despised Voldemort and Draco’s allegiance to him. Not that Draco blamed him. As someone who had witnessed the psychotic wizard in the flesh, and experienced his wrath first-hand, he really couldn’t judge anyone who despised him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already hate himself for the part he played in the war.

Draco, however, began to realize rather quickly that Zabini never actually hated him at all. In fact, the closer they got the more Draco realized Zabini always pitied him. It made him furious at first, even though he never asked the Slytherin about it. After a while Draco decided to not broach the subject with his friend for fear of losing the small bit of company he provided, and for the protection his friendship allotted. He was a Slytherin after all, and he knew how to hedge his bets.

The other, and more surprising of the two, was Granger. They hadn’t become close or even friends that year, but his first day after classes he was doing his homework in the library when two Ravenclaw students approached him with a look he saw many times reflected in his own features. Draco had looked up at them with a bored expression on his face, even when all he wanted to do was flinch at the malicious intent he saw shining in the two students’ eyes. He tried to remember who they were, if he had been involved with a raid in which one of them had lost a family member, or if perhaps he had tortured one of them at the insistence of the Carrows last year.

Try as he might, he couldn’t place them. So instead, he began to slowly lock away his emotions, mentally preparing himself before he became too volatile to handle. These past few years he had been anything but the picture of mental health, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt someone and get expelled from school.

They only got as far as opening their mouths before a book bag was unceremoniously dropped on his table. Draco turned, startled, and met a pair of light brown eyes with that self-righteous indignation he recognized so well. She didn’t look at the Ravenclaw students, didn’t even acknowledge that they were there. She just raised an eyebrow and gestured at the empty seat. He gave her a small nod and she sat without breaking eye contact.

They stared at each other for a long time, Draco’s shields slowly disintegrating under her scrutiny, until he knew the full effect of his pain and guilt was laid bare. He sighed sadly and looked away. It remained quiet for a few moments longer and he heard the two Ravenclaws shuffle away before a small delicate hand reached out and grasped the top of his. His eyes shot up in surprise, but she was already pulling away and looking through her bag.

They never spoke that year, not once. However, she did spend the rest of the year studying with him in the library, a silent sentinel protecting him from others who wanted to do to him what he had done to her so many times. That’s when whatever pieces that were left of his blood prejudices shattered like brittle glass.

He began to resent his parents after that. Not so much his mother at first, because even though she still held that pureblood ideology, she never spoke of it, or at least not after the first time he snapped at her when she used the word Mudblood. He knew, however, that she would never change her views. As time went on, he found that as much as he loved her, he couldn’t stand her for that.

After Hogwarts, his slow rebellion began. A quiet stroll down the streets of Muggle London, a class on Muggle currency and their banking system, a request to the Ministry for Muggle identification. They were skeptical about that one, but his claim of wanting to learn more about Muggles and their culture managed to work, and as long as he never broke the Statute of Secrecy, they couldn’t find a problem with him having one.

He would never forget the day he received his documents. He happened to be walking by Granger as he headed towards the Atrium. He’d almost forgotten she worked there and he probably wouldn’t even have remembered had she not been given praise recently in the Daily Prophet for being the youngest witch to become head of her department. When she finally noticed him she nearly tripped as she gave him the most curious look he had ever seen on her face. She looked as if she knew about his application and wasn’t sure whether to be suspicious of his motives or annoyed he hadn’t asked her about the subject of Muggles.

He smirked at her and winked as he passed, knowing it would only confuse her further. He silently cheered when he heard her bristle, and began to chuckle aloud as she made a show of stomping away. He may never want to be the one to make her cry again, but it had always been fun to take the piss out of her.

A few weeks later he moved his share of his inheritance out of the family vault and into his own, striking both his father and mothers names from access to the account. It felt good, like he was cutting himself off from their bigotry one small step at a time. When the goblin asked Draco if he would like to add anyone in case of death, a slow smirk drew across his face and on a whim he told them to add Hermione Granger’s name and give her full access to the vault, effective immediately. The goblin actually managed to look surprised, but quickly drew up the notification letter and walked away.

He knew she would never touch the money. In fact, he was pretty sure she would blow her top once she received the paperwork validating her as beneficiary, but he honestly didn’t give a fig. If something did happen to him, he felt she deserved the money. Not just because of what happened to her in his home during the war, or the way he treated her when they were young, but also for her support in his last year of Hogwarts. He knew some might get the wrong impression if they found out, but it truly was not about any untoward romantic notions. He was simply thanking her in the best way he knew how. It also helped that if dear old dad found out he wouldn’t be able to kill Draco for fear of his share of the Malfoy inheritance going to the Muggle-born witch. That in itself was reason enough to add her to the account.

He left Gringotts that day with a grin on his face and a skip in his step. Sure enough, when he arrived home that evening there was a Howler waiting for him in the foyer. That’s how his mother found him, laying on the polished floor as he cackled like a madman while the bright red missive tried to do bodily harm to him, screeching what a _stupid bloody git_ he was the whole time. He never laughed so hard in his life. It had been worth every Knut.

The next two years passed by and Draco became more and more obsessed with the Muggle world. He began to spend hours walking the streets of London. He learned to use the Bus system, which hadn’t been an easy feat. He shopped, bought books of all sorts and trinkets he had no use for. He dined at several different restaurants, all of which had foods he never tasted before. Some things he understood and other things he didn’t. Which in turn just made him go out and get even more books. He visited museums and parks, watched massive boats pull in and out of London’s port, and even visited Buckingham Palace once. It seemed the more time he spent in this motorized world of noise and flashing lights, the harder it was for him to leave.

He thought about buying a flat in the city but decided against it. Worry for his mother staying his hand. If Draco had only known how quickly this bubble of happiness he wrapped around himself could pop, he might have chosen differently that day.

The bubble burst shortly before the beginning of the fifth year mark since Voldemort’s destruction. It came in the form of an Official Ministry letter. He should have known something was wrong when he walked through the door, but he had just gotten home from watching his first movie and was too busy trying to figure out what house Captain Sparrow would have been sorted into to notice his mother’s joyous state. She greeted him with a hug, which was so unlike her he did take notice then, and his world suddenly stopped. He took in her crying eyes and beatific smile and just knew. They were letting his father out. His father, who he had come to despise, was coming home.

He remembered having the first wave of panic hit him and pushing his mother away. He remembered clawing at his tie to try to get more air. His feet were moving before he even realized it, and he was out of the house and apparating away. He landed in Primrose Park coughing and choking. Thanking Merlin he hadn’t splinched himself. He finally managed to yank his tie free and fell clumsily to his knees. The tears came next, hot and wet as they ran down his face. It been so long since he needed to occlude, so long since he felt the need to hide himself that the emotions, once triggered, didn’t seem to stop.

He wasn’t worried about what he had done with his inheritance. His father may try to punish him for it, but he was no longer afraid of him. No, what scared Draco was being stuck in a life of mediocrity. It was being the perfect pureblood heir with the perfect pureblood wife and the perfect pureblood son; _‘because Malfoys didn’t spawn females, their bloodline was too strong.’_ What a complete crock of shit. He wanted to be sick. All the rhetoric his father spat, all the lies. He’d have to start blocking it all again, all the emotions he gave free rein to these past years. All that soul searching and healing he had done would be for not. His father would demand a proper son, not some Muggle-loving sap who liked spending more time in _their_ world than his own. He might become just like Snape if that happened, a hollow lonely shell of himself who bitterly regretted his life.

He hated it; he hated all of it, the whole pureblood bloody diatribe. He wanted adventure, he wanted spontaneity, and Merlin, he truly just wanted to be himself. He finally realized what it was he was feeling these last years. It hadn’t just been happiness, it was freedom. He hadn’t been limited to the petty limitations of pureblood society. He had been allowed to embrace his individuality. He closed his eyes as he forced his breathing to slow, trying to remember a passage from a book he just started reading. It was by an author named John Stuart Mill called On Liberty. He hadn’t gotten very far, maybe to chapter five, but the third chapter was about individuality and how it pertains to wellbeing.

_“Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which make it a living thing.”_

He kept repeating those lines in his head as his breathing evened out, over and over until a calm sort of peace settled over him. He wasn’t a machine. He wasn’t like Lucius, cold and hard. He was a tree, malleable, capable of change and growth. As he slowly began to pull himself back together, he kept repeating the phrase. He could do this, he could insist this was his life and, no matter whom his father was, he would live it how he wanted to.

Later that night when he got home, him and his mother got into a row, a big one. She had found his Muggle collections while he was gone and been waiting for him in his room. Suffice to stay that hadn’t gone over well. She accused Muggles of seducing her son, and he accused her of being a brainwashed foolish woman who was incapable of thinking for herself. The night ended with a handprint painted on his cheek and a sobbing mother.

He felt guilt for what he said, and it took everything in him not to go to her and apologize. He wanted to be happy for her, he wanted to be glad his father was coming home, but he just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t just the Muggle world either; it was everything. From Voldemort and the war, to his ostracism from Wizarding society. All of those things contributed to what his feelings were now. He wanted to leave, pack his things that very night and disappear to a place unknown.

He remembered looking around his room sadly, his shoulder slumping in defeat, and picking up the book he hadn’t finished reading. He fingered the spine and pages delicately, before pulling out his wand and shrinking it. He found an empty box under his bed and placed the miniaturized book gently at the bottom, then began to gather the rest of the things he accumulated over the past couple years and did the same to them. Maybe he wasn’t giving his father a chance; maybe Lucius wouldn’t be so bad.

It only took him six months to realize he should have left, three of which preceded his father’s release. Lucius wasn’t just bad, he was worse. His paranoia was worse than when the Dark Lord was alive; his temper was violent and unpredictable and his bigotry wasn’t just the snide comment here or there, it was the all-out ravings of a lunatic fanatic. He stayed as long as he could for his mother’s sake.

Then one day, out of nowhere, Lucius came storming into the library where Draco was reading, screaming that he was a blood traitor and smacking him in the face with his cane. Pain exploded in his nose and through his cheek, and he didn’t have time to recover before the familiar sensation of the Cruciatus hit him. He screamed, he remembered screaming and blood, the taste of it running down his throat and making him choke and gag. He didn’t know how long it lasted, didn’t even know when it ended. All he knew is that the next day he woke up in St Mungo’s with a fractured nose, cheekbone, and three broken ribs. His mother had been there, crying and fussing over him, but he wouldn’t allow her tears to persuade him this time. He told her he was leaving the Manor. She didn’t argue, though her tears did get worse, and when he promised to set up an in-home healer for his father, she became almost inconsolable. He tried to comfort her as best he could, but he would not be swayed from his decision. The next day, after they released him he didn’t so much as look at his muttering father as he entered the family home. He went straight to his room packed his things into his old Hogwarts trunk, put a feather-light charm on it, and left.

So now here he was, three months later, about to throw himself at the mercy of Headmistress McGonagall and beg for a job because no one else in Wizarding Britain would hire him. The Muggle phrase _“How the mighty have fallen”_ ran through his head, and he smirked thinking this was more like a crash than a fall. He heard the gargoyle shift suddenly and he quickly straightened, smoothing back the hair that had become ruffled in his nervousness. He quickly followed the winding staircase up, and there she was: one of the most intimidating women he had ever known.

She studied him for a long time with that stern look he remembered so well, before she nodded at the empty chair in front of her desk. “Please Mr. Malfoy, take a seat.”

He quickly fumbled into the chair, and he thought he might have seen the corners of her lips twitch in amusement. He wanted to scowl at her, but refrained. It wouldn’t do to make her mad before he got a chance to ask her about the potions position.

“Would you care for some tea?” She asked politely.

“That would be lovely Headmistress.” He saw her lips twitch again. Shit, she knew he was desperate.

“How do you take it Mr. Malfoy?” She asked as she magically set the pot to boil.

“One sugar, black.” He said quickly, gaining a bit of confidence when he didn’t fumble the words, or sound like he was trying to sweet talk her. McGonagall poured their cups of tea, added his sugar and sent the cup floating to him. He thanked her and took a sip, the warm liquid calming his nerves.

She took a sip of her own tea, watching him thoughtfully. “I know why you’re here Mr. Malfoy, and unfortunately, as much as I would like to, I can’t have you working for this school.”

He opened his mouth to plead his case but she cut him off before he could say anything. “It’s not personal Mr. Malfoy, at least not from my end. Hogwarts is finally starting to reach full attendance again, and as much as I am in need of a Potions Professor at the moment, many parents would react unfavorably if I hired a known Death Eater.”

He sighed sadly and flinched at the familiar moniker. His eyes closed, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew where this was going. It had been the same in all his interviews. Once his past as a Death Eater was mentioned, he knew he didn’t stand a chance.

“I personally believe you would make an excellent Professor given the chance Draco.” She continued, “I know you’ve taken great strides to distance yourself from the blood prejudices that plague your family name. For that alone, you have earned my respect.” She sat forward, a slow smile gracing her lips, “that is why I have decided to offer you a different proposal.”

Draco straightened at her words, his head shooting up and eyes opening in time to catch the grandmotherly smile that graced her lips. His heart began to pound. He had been so sure she was going to turn him away.

Her smile widened further at his reaction, and she sat forward even more, her arms coming to rest on her desk. “Tell me Mr. Malfoy, what do you know about the Slayer?”


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:I would like to thank MizWax for betaing this chapter for me. 
> 
> Please leave a review, I'm so excited to hear what you all think. I also hope my explanations in this chapter make since.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter One

This past week had been one of the suckiest in the history of suckdom. First, it had started with two voicemails from her exes. One of which was supposed to be dead. If that hadn’t been enough, Buffy had come to find out that both Giles and Andrew knew about Spike’s miraculous return from the dead and hadn’t even bothered to tell her. The worst part was, apparently both Giles and Angel had spoken at great lengths about whether to tell her, and decided it was in her best interest to keep it from her.

‘ _Yeah, because that was with the sense making_.’

To say she was pissed would have been the understatement of the year. She was murderous. She wanted to fly to L.A and beat the hell out of Angel. Then find Spike and beat the hell out of him too, kiss him, then beat the hell out of him some more. Except no, she couldn’t do that because Angel had somehow talked Spike into joining his crusade against Wolfram and Hart, and now both vampires, their team, the L.A. Branch of W&H, along with twelve city blocks were missing. That’s right, they just up and vanished. And just to add insult to injury, if two exes in one week wasn’t enough to highlight how very crappy Buffy was as a girlfriend, she was also forced to call Riley and beg him to contact the Pentagon to help stage a cover-up in the form of a gas line explosion. All that, on top of two Slayers refusing to get along, this new Ministry breathing down her neck about setting up some sort of Dark Arts rehabilitation program through her organization, and she had less than five minutes to read through a file for a possible new recruit that McGonagall was sending her way. She just hoped she could keep her emotions in check enough to turn off the mega bitch and not scare a possible new Watcher away. Honestly, if her life got anymore comedic she was going to start charging a cover fee.

A soft knock came at her door, before it opened and the last person she wanted to see right now walked in. “Look Buffy, I think we need to talk.” Her Watcher stated, glasses already in hands for a good polish. Her eyes narrowed.

“Really not a good time right now Giles.” Buffy said through clenched teeth. It was bad enough she still had to work with him cordially in front of the girls, but his constant attempt to apologize fell flat in meaning or sentiment when she knew he would do it again given the chance.

“You can’t keep ignoring me Buffy. We need to talk about this.” He said in a stern voice that got her hackles up.

“There’s nothing to say Giles. You betrayed me. _Again_ , I might add.” She was starting to get really pissed now.

“Don’t be ridiculous Buffy. I didn’t betray you. We were simply worried that after everything that happened between you and Spike the previous two years, that it would be better—” That was it; that was _fucking it_. So, he wanted to do this now did he? Well fine, they would fucking do it! He had no right to stand there telling her what she was supposed to feel right now.

She threw her fountain pen down with a loud smack and stood so quickly the chair behind her toppled to the floor. Her hands slammed down on her desk so hard it creaked and moaned from the force. Giles jumped and took a step back. Good, now maybe she had his attention. Buffy glared at her Watcher and through gritted teeth she spat: “Ridiculous huh? _I’m_ ridiculous? Let’s talk about who’s being ridiculous, shall we? I just spent the past year grieving for someone I loved, someone I thought was dead.” She could feel the tears brimming her eyes, but she forced them back. “And the man who’s supposed to be like a father to me decided not to tell me.” She shook her head in disgust, her voice rising to a shout. “Now he either didn’t notice, even though he’s known me since I was fifteen and should be able to tell a sad Buffy from a content one; or worse, he _did_ notice and didn’t care!”

His eyes finally filled with understanding, regret, and possibly even a little bit of guilt. So now he was getting it. She honestly hoped he choked on it. How dare he be so blind? How dare he not see that she was struggling? Even Hermione, who Buffy didn’t know very well, saw it. Was he really becoming that cold hearted?

Her lovable Giles, her rock, her teacher, he was disappearing right in front of her. This was almost worse than abandoning her after her resurrection. At least she somewhat understood _that_. What he’d deliberately kept from her though, the turmoil and guilt she felt from leaving the man she loved behind…she still had nightmares about it. She still woke up screaming. She dreamed of Spike turning to dust before her eyes, and Giles thought it was _better_ she didn’t know. She could kill him.

His shoulders suddenly sagged under her venomous stare and the pain she knew was written on her face. “Perhaps you were right,” he whispered softly. “Perhaps now was not the best time.”

Buffy reeled as if she’d been slapped, an incredulous look on her face. If there wasn’t a desk between them she would have hit him. “Ya think?!” 

Giles made a move to leave but stopped before he walked out. “Regardless of what you think Buffy, I am sorry. I understand now why you’re so upset.”

A sob escaped her lips, her voice cracking under the effort not to start blubbering. “No, I really don’t think you do. It wasn’t just losing Spike. It was guilt too. And if you had taken half a second to pay attention, you would have seen that.” The tears finally broke free and she didn’t try to stop them. “And now,” her voice came out watery and hollow, “now it’s like starting over again Giles. It’s like he’s died all over again.”

He seemed to hunch further in on himself at her words. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then thought better of it and walked out. Buffy quickly wiped her face as she heard murmured voices in the hallway. Great. Hermione was back. Which meant the new recruit was probably here and knowing her nonexistent luck they probably heard everything. Just another cherry to add to her shit-sundae of a week.

~)0(~

Draco was nervous. Merlin’s balls! The Slayer was real, as in _actually_ real. She was only supposed to be a fairytale. A young woman imbued with powers to fight dark creatures. It even sounded like a fairytale.

He opened his mouth once again to ask a question, but decided against it. His eyes going back to watching Granger drive. She did it effortlessly, moving her feet from pedal to pedal, using the lever in between them. She made it look so easy. They were in a small automobile. Granger had picked him up from a small wizarding town close to Inverness, and Draco was shocked to see Hermione pull up in the little car. He had assumed they would meet and Apparate to the destination, but she had explained that there were Anti-Apparition wards around the castle, and she didn’t want to risk any Muggles seeing them suddenly appear near the compound.

Hermione rolled her eyes, an amused look on her face. “Just ask Malfoy. I promise I won’t get annoyed with you.”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in the seat of the car. It was strange sitting here with her, like they were old friends just taking an afternoon drive through the country. “I don’t quite understand how this doesn’t violate the Statute of Secrecy.” He said in confusion.

“Well technically the Slayers are, by definition, magical beings. The Watchers Council, however, mostly consists of Muggles and Earth Magic users—”

“Earth Magic?” Draco interrupted surprised, forgetting his discomfort for a moment. “I thought that was illegal. Isn’t it supposed to be highly volatile and addictive?”

A strange look crossed Granger’s face at his words, but she shook her head and continued. “Yes, yes it is. However, it’s not the Ministry’s job to police Muggles. Which brings me to why the Watchers Council knows about the magical world at all.” She gestured with her hand as she went into full know-it-all mode. Draco’s lips twitched in amusement.

“You see, before the Salem Witch Trials, the Council was highly active in the magical world and vice versa. There were several witches and wizard employed as Watchers and even a few Healers worked for the Council.

“When the Statute of Secrecy was drawn up, the magical community had to break ties with the Council, or at least partially.” She paused, frowning. As if she wasn’t quite sure she should be telling him all this. She must have decided the validity of it was well-founded however, because she continued the next moment. “There are two classified clauses in the Statute that the public doesn’t know about due to the secrecy surrounding the Slayer. Keeping her anonymity from those who would try to use her for their own gain, and also in keeping Earth Magic as much a mystery to the wizarding world as possible.”

“The first one…” she said, holding up a finger and speaking in that haughty voice he remembered so well from school. Draco grinned. “…pertains to the Watchers Council, and allowances made to remain in contact with their organization due to the nature of her work and the forces surrounding her calling. The second clause…” she held up another finger, then scowled when she noticed Draco’s amused grin. She muttered, “prat,” dropped her hand and continued. “…is about what’s to be done with white and dark magic users, specifically covens. That’s where it gets complicated. And honestly it’s so mind-numbingly boring I won’t go into detail.” She shook her head in exasperation. “It basically breaks down to the Ministry using white magic users to track down and stop dark magic users by either binding their magic, Obliviating them with the help of a wizard, or offering rehabilitation depending on how powerful they’ve become.”

Draco shook his head, his amusement fading into worry and mild irritation. What the bleeding hell was all this!? Classified information like this shouldn’t be bandied about. Especially not with Death Eaters in and out of Azkaban so regularly lately. They were still active if the articles in the Prophet were any indication. Not to mention the fact he used to be one! And she was just telling him all this like they were discussing a potions project. “How the bloody hell did you get involved in all this Granger? Merlin, how did McGonagall?”

“Well,” and now she was the one to look uncomfortable. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

Draco looked around as they drove through a rocky hill side. No way was she getting off that easy. “It looks like we have plenty of time.”

She sighed in frustration. “You do realize if you don’t take the job I’m going to Obliviate you, right?”

His amusement came back immediately. “I would expect nothing less from the Ministry.”

Her scowl seemed to deepen at his words, but she ignored his barb. “A few years back, when I found out about the two loopholes in the Statute, Kingsley asked me to seek out a coven in Devon. They recently felt a disturbance in the earth’s energy coming from a location near the coast of Southern California.” Hermione shook her head. “Now that’s not unusual for that area considering where Sunnydale was located.” Okay, now Draco was confused. What the hell was Sunnydale? It sounded like a town, but not one he ever heard of before. However, rather than interrupt, he let her continue. “What was disconcerting was the amount of magical energy that tore out of there. It only lasted about five minutes, but it was enough to scare the pants off the ICW.”

His eyes widened at her words. He didn’t understand everything, but he knew enough to know that anything that registered strong enough to scare the International Confederation of Wizards probably wasn’t good. “Fuck,” he breathed, “what was it?”

Her face became pinched, most likely from his coarse language. He heard her yelling at Weasley enough times about the same thing. “Hold your hippogriffs Draco, I’m getting there.” She chastised tartly. When he didn’t interrupt her again, just looked at her with mild amusement, she continued. “I met with the coven in Devon, and we tried to get a read on the signature of the magic. We assumed that if we could trace its signature, perhaps we could figure out what caused it.”

“And did you?” He asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she did, she was Hermione Granger.

“Yes,” she said softly, her voice becoming somber. “It was a dimensional rift, a massive one. It had enough energy to destroy our world, both wizarding and Muggle, but it was much stronger than just that. It could have torn through several, if not all, dimensions.”

“What the fuck Hermione?!” Draco choked. His mind reeling at the horror of what could have been. “Why the fuck didn’t MACUSA send someone in there immediately?”

“Because the location of the rift was on a Boca del Infierno,” she said calmly.

He froze. The one place a wizard didn’t dare travel. It was well known what the energy in a place like that could do to a wizard’s magic. Not to mention the tales of the types of creatures it attracted. “You’re telling me,” he said quietly, anger and dread filling his voice, “a giant dimensional rift opened on top of a Hellmouth and the Ministry didn’t even think to warn the population?”

“And cause mass panic?” She laughed, looking at him like he had boils on his face. “You can’t possibly think that would have been a good idea?”

He scowled at her for a moment, before crossing his arms and looking out the window. Fine. If she was going to act like that, he didn’t need to know the rest. Except, that wasn’t exactly true. After a few moments he huffed and turned back towards her, “well?” 

A secret smile formed on her lips. “Would you like me to continue?” She singsonged mockingly.

“ _Granger_ …” He growled her name warningly.

She snickered. “Alright! I’m sorry. Where was I?” She paused, thinking a moment. “Oh yes, Hellmouth, massive rift. That’s right. So, we contacted the Watcher Council hoping to get answers, because we knew that’s where the current Slayer was located. They were no help, besides informing us the danger was taken care of. So,” she shrugged, “we were basically stuck. Kingsley called me back to the Ministry, the coven promised to keep an eye on the Hellmouth, and life went on.”

She sighed, her face getting a little pale from whatever memory she was seeing. “Five months went by before Kingsley called me back into his office to inform me there was another magical surge, but it wasn’t as strong as the one before, and the coven didn’t believe it had the same magical signature.” She sighed again. “He said he didn’t think I needed to go out there, but he was just keeping me in the loop in case that changed.” She shifted, a small shudder running through her, and Draco frowned. “Seven months after that, I _was_ called back out there. One of the witches had a vision of someone in pain, and then she felt power. The darkest power she had ever felt.”

“We spent weeks waiting for another vision. Buffy’s Watcher was called because he happened to be here in England at the time. We meditated with them for days. Then finally, a few days before it happened Maggie, one of the seers, had a vision.”

Draco knew this was serious, but the thought of Hermione hanging around a bunch of fortunetellers took almost all the self-control he had to not start laughing at her. The girl who hated Divinations so much was spending time with seers. Oh, the irony of life. If it wasn’t for the horror written on Hermione’s face, he might have brought it up.

“When the vision hit, we were all in the circle and there was transference of a sort. I…” She paused, swallowing. “…I felt it and I…I saw bits and pieces.”

“What was it?” Draco asked, completely captivated, his heart suddenly racing in his chest.

“It was a girl,” she whispered. “The Slayer’s best friend.” Hermione shook her head. “I…I didn’t know someone could feel worse than Voldemort.”

Draco eyes widened in fear. He remembered very well what Voldemort felt like: hollow, empty, and cold. He shuddered at the memory. As if she was reading his mind, she began speaking again. “Except where Voldemort was cold and empty, Willow felt hot like fire. Anguish and rage and desperation rolled through her. I can only liken it to being similar to what a Veela must feel when she loses her mate.”

Hermione shook her head, tears brimming her eyes. “She lost her girlfriend, you see. She was murdered in front of her. And Willow…she just snapped; she just went completely mental with grief.” Hermione sighed, swallowing back the fear that entered her voice. “We all felt the darkness next. It was so powerful and intoxicating. I was terrified. I’d never felt anything so…heady…so…I felt invincible. I felt in that moment that if I was standing in front of Voldemort right then, I could have torn him apart with a snap of my fingers.” She shuddered, and so did Draco. This was insane, absolutely insane. He had no idea Earth Magic was so potent, or that Muggles were capable of wielding it. He also didn’t understand why Hermione was confessing this to him. Perhaps she thought he would understand, and part of him did. Not quite the way she was explaining, but he remembered practicing Dark Arts spells when he was young and his father praising him, telling him what a natural he was. He even remembered how powerful he felt knowing he could hurt someone if he wanted too.

“Then I remembered.” She said softly. “I remembered I wasn’t actually feeling my own magic, I was feeling someone else’s, and that scared me even more.”

“We didn’t know how Willow had done it. Don’t mistake me, she was already an incredibly powerful witch, more in the grey area than the light, but not evil. Not really.” She looked at him sadly. “Mr. Giles, Buffy’s Watcher suspected it was borrowed magic.” She shrugged. “So we devised a plan to stop her. We imbued Mr. Giles with a little bit of magic from all of us in the hopes it would be enough for him to confront her and survive. We also suspected that she would try to steal the magic we gave him, so we placed a powerful dose of emotions into the spell. It was almost like a Devils Snare trap. Once released, the pain of humanity would be unbearable for her. And the more she tried to pull away, the stronger it would hold her.”

“Hold on a moment,” Draco said, holding up his hand. Everything she just confessed finally dawning on him. “Are you…you’re not practicing this magic are you?” A pinched, guilty look crossed her face, and he already knew his answer before she even opened her mouth.

“I’ll have you know, anything I did in regards to Earth Magic was sanctioned by Kingsley.” She said snootily, her nose in the air.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Sure it was, and I’m guessing the guilty look on your face right now means you haven’t told him you’ve still been practicing.”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, chewing on her bottom lip. “I may have helped Willow track down some Slayers with—”

Draco’s eyes widened, his jaw coming unhinged at her words. “ _Willow_ ,” he hissed. “You mean the same girl who boosted her power? The one who felt like Voldemort? Granger, are you insane?!”

Hermione’s eyes widened at her faux pas, and then narrowed in anger. “You don’t know a bloody thing about her Malfoy!” She growled, and Draco reeled from the venom in her voice. “Do you think Voldemort was capable of guilt or remorse? Do you think he had any type of capacity for love or heartbreak?” She shook her head angrily. “You didn’t see her when Giles brought her to England, Malfoy. You didn’t see the broken, scared, timid woman who was so ashamed of herself she couldn’t look any of us in the eye.” Hermione took a deep breath, as if to calm her temper. Her voice came out slightly less harsh as she said, “she’s not like Voldemort, Draco. She’s not a monster.”

Draco eyed Hermione thoughtfully for a moment. Her outburst reminding him of all the times she stood up for Weasley, even when he didn’t deserve it. It finally occurred to Draco why. “Bloody hell!” He choked back a laugh.

“What?!” She yelped in alarm, heat infusing her cheeks in a way that told Draco she knew he figured it out.

Draco did laugh then, he couldn’t help it. “Fucking hell, Granger! I didn’t know you had it in you.” He said between chuckles.

“What?!” She yelped again in a slightly more panicked tone.

“You’re in love with her.” He stated simply.

Her face turned bright red at his words, but she didn’t answer. Instead she turned the car off the main road and started to follow a much narrower road that seemed to lead to a small castle in the distance. “We’re almost there.” She said, trying to change the subject.

“Does Weasley know?” Draco asked, as if she hadn’t just ignored him. He knew they broke up about a year ago. It had been all over the Prophet for weeks.

“No,” she said sharply. “It’s rather new and, considering that neither Harry nor Ron know anything about this, I would prefer it if they didn’t know. I wouldn’t even have a clue how to begin to tell them anyway.”

“Fair enough,” Draco grinned. “How’s the sex?”

The car suddenly swerved at his words, heat once again infusing her cheeks. “Draco!” She screeched. “I am not indulging your perverted male fantasies.”

He chuckled, “that good, huh?”

“Do stop.” She chastised exasperated, the beginning of a smile cracking through her outraged expression and a small laugh escaping her lips.

They didn’t speak the rest of the way. Draco quietly watched as the castle in the distance got larger. When they pulled through the main gates into the courtyard his eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. There were girls everywhere of varying ages. All of them scantily clad in formfitting attire, jumping and running and sparring. He never saw anything like it in his life. He had to rub his eyes and shake his head to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. There were girls sparring with swords. Others fought hand to hand, kicks and jabs missing by just millimeters. There was a group of about twenty standing in formation as a redheaded young woman shouted commands.

“Are these…are these all Slayers?” Draco whispered, awe entering his voice.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, a smile entering her voice as the car came to a stop. “Though you might want to stop drooling, most of them are underage.”

His eyes shot to hers and he scowled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he conceded her point. “Okay. Yes, most of them are fit. But I thought—”

“You thought there was only one,” she finished.

“Yes.” He nodded.

Hermione opened her car door and stepped out. “Up until last year there was.” She said, watching Draco follow her lead. “Buffy changed all that about a year ago. With Willow’s help of course.”

They began to walk towards the castle, and that’s when he noticed all the eyes on him. Most of the girls had stopped to watch them. A few of them looked at him with an interested gleam in their eyes. Most looked on with curiosity. Though two of the older women, the redhead included, looked at him with pale faces. As if he was some sort of boggart. He couldn’t make heads or tails of that. He was almost positive they didn’t know about his past transgressions. And even if they did, he doubted he was someone who invoked fear into these warrior women.

“I’m sorry if Buffy seems a little off when you meet her. This week has been incredibly straining on her.” Hermione said apologetically as he followed her through the front doors of the castle. It wasn’t as grandiose as Hogwarts or the Manor, but it wasn’t awful either. There was a grand staircase as you walked in the foyer, two doors on either side leading deeper into the heart of the building. He began to follow Hermione up the stairs when he noticed two more women giving him a strange look. He frowned to himself, straining his ears to hear what they were saying.

“Is that—?” An olive-skinned young woman with dark hair and eyes started to ask, watching him ascend the staircase.

“Nope,” the other woman, dark-skinned with dreadlocks, interrupted.

“Is that the new recruit then?” The brunette asked.

“I think so.” The dark-skinned woman replied.

“Buffy’s gonna freak.”

“Yep,” The other girl replied.

He was at the top of the staircase by then and couldn’t hear anymore. He frowned at their cryptic speech, a feeling of foreboding coming over him. “Hermione, what’s she like?” He asked nervously, hoping that whatever he seemed to represent wasn’t going to put him in danger.

“Who? Buffy?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” he replied, following Hermione down a long, narrow hallway.

“Well, I don’t know her very well. But she seems…I don’t know…sad, courageous, and motivated. I know she’s overworked and under a lot of stress. I know she has a really big heart, even though she doesn’t show it. Willow has told me enough about her for me to know that. I also know she’s a big believer in redemption.” She gave him a piercing look when she said that. Draco swallowed. This was why he was here after all. Isn’t that what McGonagall said, a chance for redemption?

They slowed as they turned another corner and came upon a partially closed door. They could both hear raised voices inside and Draco and Hermione both jumped when a loud crash and then a bang sounded in the room. A woman’s voice was raised enough to where they could make out what was being said.

“Oh dear,” Hermione murmured. “I told him she needed more time.”

“Who?” Draco asked.

“Giles,” she answered. “Buffy’s Watcher.”

Draco heard the young woman’s anger at her Watcher through the door. Something about a man she loved and her Watcher lying to her. Draco strained to hear more, but their voices had dropped down to normal levels by then. He really hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by coming here. Before he could think on it further, an older man with greying hair and glasses stepped out of the room, a pained expression on his face.

Giles saw Hermione first and smiled kindly at her, if not a little forced. “Hermione, I didn’t realize you—” His voice trailed off as his eyes met Draco’s, his face going to ash. “Good lord.” He whispered. Draco blinked, becoming more confused and uncomfortable by the moment.

Hermione luckily managed to break the awkward silence by introducing him. Thank the gods. “Mr. Giles, this is Draco Malfoy. The new recruit I’ve been talking about.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Giles said politely, holding out his hand. “Terribly sorry about that, at first glance you looked like…Oh, never mind. It just threw me off.” He smiled kindly, shaking Draco’s hand. “I’m so glad you’ll be joining us. We really need all the help we can get right now.”

He turned quickly to Granger, a nervousness entering his voice, “would you like me to take the interview Hermione dear?”

She frowned at him, suspicion shining in her eyes, “but Buffy—”

“Is quite upset with me,” Giles interrupted. “We should probably give her some time—” But it was too late. Buffy’s office door opened and there she was.

Draco’s world completely stopped, his eyes widening in astonishment. She was absolutely the loveliest creature he had ever seen in his life. She was fairy-like in appearance, with delicate features and tanned skin. Her eyes were like sharp cut emeralds. Her hair reminded him of spun gold, and her stature was petite and compact. He was absolutely enchanted by her.

Her eyes landed on her Watcher first, irritation at the man clear on her face. Her eyes moved to Hermione next, and they softened slightly when they landed on her. A frown marred the young woman’s features at the confused look that Granger hadn’t had time to adjust. Then, very slowly, her lovely green eyes moved up and locked on his grey ones. She took a small step back and sucked in a breath of surprise. Her eyes widened in shock, before she blinked and shook her head. Amused irritation seemed to flash across her features as she quietly studied him. And then a hysterical laugh bubbled forth from deep in her chest, and then another. And before Draco knew what the joke was about, she was doubled over, cackling like a mad woman.

~)0(~

Buffy opened her office door, irritated that Giles hadn’t left yet. She just wanted to get this interview over with so she could go beat on the bag awhile, take a hot bath, and go to bed. She frowned in irritated confusion as she saw Giles panicked features. Her eyes then landing on Hermione’s confused ones. That’s when Buffy seemed to notice the tall, slender man standing beside the brunette. Her eyes slowly found his, and her heart stopped. She took a step back as her breath got lodged in her throat. She had to blink and shake her head to make sure she wasn’t going crazy.

When she looked again, she could clearly see it was _not_ Spike. He was taller for one. He also had no scars on his face. His cheekbones weren’t as defined, his nose was slightly pointier, and his eyes were a blue grey rather than bright cerulean. His hair was also a lighter shade of platinum, almost silver, and natural looking. Spike’s always looked like a bottle job. He had beautiful hands as well. Long elegant fingers with perfectly manicured nails, no chipped black paint to speak of.

The irony of the situation hit her then. Because of course a man with similar features to Spike would show up to work for them. The Powers either had the worst sense of humor ever, or they hated her that much.

The first wave of hysterics hit her before she could hold it back. She tried to stop herself, she really did. The last thing she wanted was the new guy thinking she was completely nuts. The second wave hit her then, and she tried to choke it back, but it was far too late. The more she tried to hold it in, the harder it was. And before she knew it, she was doubled over in laughter, her stomach aching from the force of her cackles. Sometimes she really couldn’t believe that this was her life.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my amazing beta and cheerleader Mizwax for amazing job on this chapter. It was not an easy chapter to write. 
> 
> That being said there are trigger warning for this chapter. Nothing in detail but rape is mentioned, child abuse, and also murder. If this squeaks you out please do not read.
> 
> If your still here with me after this chapter please review. I would truly appreciate it.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Two

“I’m sorry.” Buffy choked between giggles, finally starting to get a handle on her frayed emotions. She looked up at him, his face a picture of high offence and she almost started to giggling again. She held it in though, reprimanding herself.

_‘Nice one Buffy. Scare the man-candy with your mental breakdown and offend him at the same time. Real smooth.’_

“I’m sorry,” she said again, waving her hand and shaking her head. “It’s not you, really.” She blew out a breath, finally starting to get her breathing back to some form of normality. “It’s me…it’s really, really me.”

The man raised a single eyebrow, his expression melting from one of offence to one of cautious amusement. A slow smirk drew across his lips as he said, “funny.” His voice came out silky and refined, and a small shiver went up Buffy’s spine at the elegance in the way he said that single word. “I thought that was my line.”

It was Buffy’s turn to raise an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly at the quip. Was he…was he flirting with her?

_‘Oh, this one is going to be more trouble than Blaise and Theo combined.’_

“Buffy?” Hermione said in a timid voice, pulling Buffy’s eyes from the new recruit. “Are you…are you alright?”

A reassuring smile crossed Buffy’s lips as she turned her full attention to the young woman. Willow and Kennedy had broken up about nine months ago and Buffy wasn’t positive, but she suspected there was something going on between Hermione and her best friend.

“I’m fine Hermione, really.” Buffy said, running a hand through her hair. “Just with this week…and the stress…you know, and the badness.” Okay, now she just sounded like she was dense. She sighed in annoyance at her word vomit. “And then,” she gestured to the new recruit. “I saw… and for a second I thought…” She shook her head. “For a second he looked like someone I used to know.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in understanding, a sympathetic look crossing her face. “I’m so sorry Buffy. I had know idea—”

Buffy cut her off with a wave her hand. “It’s okay, really. You couldn’t have known.” And she couldn’t have. She had made it clear to Hermione that she didn’t want any biased opinions when it came to these new recruits, especially the ones who chose to come here. Hermione had honored that request. It also wasn’t as if she’d ever seen a photograph of Spike and had anything to compare him too.

Giles cleared his throat. “If you would like Buffy, I could take the interview today.”

“No Giles, its fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” She was still pissed at him, and probably would be for a long time, but she gave him a small appreciative smile anyway.

She turned back to the man, and held out her hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Buffy, Buffy Summers.”

“Draco Malfoy,” he said smoothly. “Utterly charmed.” Instead of shaking her hand like she had expected, he gently grasped the tips of her fingers, bringing her knuckles up to gently brush against his lips. Heat went straight through her at the touch; her hand burning where his lips had been. A blush infused her cheeks at his words, her eyes widened slightly.

_‘Oh yeah, trouble with a capital T.’_

Buffy cleared her throat, shaking her head. She needed to get a grip. This wasn’t Spike, and the last thing she wanted was to have a repeat of her relationship with Riley. In her mind a traitorous voice that sounded entirely too much like Faith whispered: _‘But you haven’t been with anyone for two years. What’s the harm in a little flirting?’_

Buffy mentally scowled at the voice, bitch-slapping it to the back of her mind. _‘Because I’m still grieving,’_ she reminded it.

“Please Mr. Malfoy,” she said, putting on her all-business voice and gesturing to her office door. “After you.”

Buffy looked back at Hermione for a moment and she nodded in understanding. “I’ll be here.”

Once inside, Buffy sat down, finally opening the file on her desk. “Have a seat Mr. Malfoy.” She said waving at the empty chair. She wished she had a chance to look at the file earlier. She might have been a little more prepared; his picture was paper clipped to the first page of the file. He seemed much younger in it and had a sneer on his face that completely changed his entire appearance.

She looked up at him in surprise, but quickly covered it with an apologetic smile. “Just give me a few minutes to read your file. I haven’t had a chance yet.”

He nodded at her, swallowing nervously. Well, that was a red flag if she ever saw one. Her eyes scanned the page, quickly discovering why. He was a former Death Eater, was considered a blood purist, and was involved in the plot that got the last Headmaster of Hogwarts killed. She could work with that though. His record was colorful, that was true, but no less than what she’d seen before.

Blaise hadn’t been as involved in the war the way both Theo and Draco were. His mother had been extremely active however, which lead to Blaise’s unfortunate situation after the war. He had become an outsider amongst his peers because he stayed neutral and because of his family name. His assets had also been seized under monetary gain in suspicion with homicide. No one would hire him after that.

Hermione had found him last Christmas wandering the streets of Diagon Alley drunk, homeless, and utterly lost. She done the only thing she’d been able to think of, she’d brought him to the one group of people she knew would take him. She brought him to Willow, which in turn led him to Buffy herself. They’d only been in the country about two months at the time and had barely enough room to house the Slayers they’d picked up along the way. But one look at the pathetic young man and Buffy couldn’t turn him away.

Kingsley had been furious at Hermione at first, and even though Buffy didn’t know Hermione that well, she’d been privy to her temper and outrage more than once when it came to all things unjust. Buffy would have paid her weight in gold if she could have been a fly on the wall the day Kingsley tried to reprimand Hermione.

She didn’t know which one of them had come up with the idea that Buffy should start taking in all the wayward Death Eaters who were underage during the war, but it had come wrapped in an offer she couldn’t refuse. The castle was what truly sealed the deal. A place to house and train her Slayers safely. The property itself apparently belonged to the new Headmistress of Hogwarts and had been in her family for over eight hundred years. It was a perfect starting point and it had come free with wards and Anti-Apparition spells already in place. It had also come with the side bonus of this new Ministry’s experimental program to rehabilitate former Death Eaters.

Theodore Nott got out of prison a few months after they’d commandeered the place. He’d been their first test subject, so to speak. Kingsley informed Buffy that he wanted her to do for him what she had supposedly done for Blaise. Except the truth was, Buffy hadn’t really done anything for Blaise. He wasn’t a blood purist, he never followed Voldemort, and he had nothing to do with the deaths of his mother’s former husbands.

Theo was a different beast altogether. His father was an absolute monster, and she didn’t use that word lightly. She’s always said there was a difference between a demon and a man who acted like a monster. A demon she could understand, they were already a monster; you really couldn’t expect anything less. It would bite you eventually, whether it was tamed or not. But with a man it was something different altogether, and she just couldn’t understand that. They had a soul; they should know better. They were supposed to know what guilt felt like. Now however, she was no longer that naïve, her history books had told her as much years ago. She should have paid more attention in school. Evil truly came in every form.

It took at least three months for Theo to come around. The first month, he was almost catatonic the entire time. The second, he was spewing venom the likes of which she’d never heard. It ended with her finally snapping; disarming him before he had a chance to regret what he was about to do, and hitting him in the face. _Hard_. Not at full strength, but enough to put him in St Mungo’s for a week. When he came back he was subdued, but he no longer looked at them like cockroaches. He looked at them with fear instead, especially the Slayers.

It took one more month to finally break through to the young man. It happened naturally, and it hadn’t been her who initiated it. She’d been out by the Fairy Pools. It was the anniversary of her mom’s death and she was drinking at ten in the morning. She felt a presence sit next to her as he made a couple of wiseass comments about her drinking habits. After a while she found herself growing so annoyed with him that she just blurted it out. She told him how three years ago today she found her mother’s body. He had shut up after that, and just listened to her spill her guts about everything: her fears about the future, leaving her sister in Rome, Giles changing, the Slayers she was afraid to fail, what her friends had done to her and how she wasn’t sure they could ever be the same, everything and anything that popped in her head.

He told her about his father after that, breaking down in tears in front of her. That he’d been forced to witness his father murder his mother. The beatings he received from his father, both magical and physical. The rhetoric his family and Voldemort believed. How he wished he had died during the war, because at least then he wouldn’t have to live in a world where mudbloods where allowed to walk around free. She’d been sick, but she hadn’t judged him. How could she? These boys were a product of their environment. Their entire lives dictated to them by people who should never have had children in the first place.

When he noticed she was crying for him it almost came to blows. He’d drawn his wand on her sneering, angry, and in pain. A curse of some kind was right on the tip of his tongue, but she disarmed him quickly before he could utter the first syllable. Instead of hitting him this time however, she got right in his personal space and threw her arms around him, forcing him into her tight embrace.

He tried to fight her off, but his attempts were useless in comparison to her strength. She held on as he clawed and pushed and hit her, grunts of frustration and panic leaving his throat. Until finally, his strength gave out. His legs collapsed under him forcing Buffy to take the brunt of his weight as he ended up a sobbing mess in her arms. It was after that day that talks of therapy went from a possibility to a necessity.

Buffy flipped the page and was relieved to see Draco hadn’t been in trouble since his trial. The Ministry had kept close tabs on him since the war, the same way they kept tabs on the rest of the people who had been on the other side. He also had gotten what the Ministry referred to as Muggle identification, which was surprising for someone who had been a true follower of Voldemort. He didn’t know it, but he had been under surveillance the first few weeks after he received his documents. However, the Ministry could find no wrong doing and quickly dropped the detail.

He was admitted to St Mungo’s not too long ago with a busted face and three broken ribs. Narcissa Malfoy had been the one to admit him, saying he had fallen from his broom. The healers, however, suspected it had been his father. Lucius Malfoy had been released not three months before that, and apparently Draco had signs of being cursed by the Cruciatus. Buffy tried to remain calm on the outside as she read that, but she couldn’t hide the slight tremors in her hands as the rage for all these boys’ parents filled her. It was disgusting. Was there not one pureblood family that didn’t feel the need to mentally and physically destroy their sons?

Buffy closed the file with a sigh and looked up at him. His eyes were downcast and she could clearly see he was sweating. She didn’t want him to be afraid that she would cast him out. She had no intention of doing so. He was here for a reason, whether he realized it or not. But she wasn’t going to lie or sugar coat things for him. They were about to start implementing requirements that she knew he was going to feel uncomfortable with, hell she felt uncomfortable with them. It wouldn’t be fair to him if he went into this blind.

She stood then and crossed her arms, walking to the window and staring out into the Loch. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions Mr. Malfoy, and I would like for you to be honest with me. But before I do, I should probably warn you that in the coming months we are going to be requiring everyone under the employment of the Council to start participating in once a month therapy sessions and once a week support groups. I know that wizarding society is a bit archaic when it comes to things like mental illness, so I should probably explain what it is and what it will entail.”

She turned around, facing him and leaned her hip against the windowsill. His eyes were large and nervous as they watched her, but there was also a bit of curiosity in his expression. “Therapy is a form of medicine for the mind. It requires you to talk to a trained professional and they help you analyze your feelings and change behavior if needed. It’s incredibly useful in improving your well-being and mental health.” She then added with a small smile, “and god do I wish I had something like that when I learned I was the Slayer.” She watched his face change from fear to incredulity and back again.

She shook her head. “This isn’t a punishment. We’ve been talking about doing this since we activated all the Slayers last year. It’s detrimental I know who and what I’m dealing with when it comes to these girls and their power. I don’t want to be responsible for one of them becoming homicidal and going on a rampage through the city. It’s also imperative I know my staff is mentally stable when dealing with these young women. They will push you, and I expect you to be able push back without doing harm mentally or physically. Also,” she sighed, running her fingers through her blonde hair, “if I’m being honest with myself we all need this, especially me.”

He gave her a doubtful look and she chuckled. “You look skeptical.”

“You don’t strike me as a lunatic.” Draco said matter-of-factly.

Buffy chuckled. “Well I’m not. Not in the way you’re thinking at least. But I did just laugh in your face on our first meeting because for a second I thought you were my ex-boyfriend, and when I realized you weren’t my brain kinda short-circuited.”

He looked at her strangely, as if he didn’t quite understand the reference but seemed to get her general meaning. “Is he…is he the one you and Mr. Giles were arguing about?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his bluntness. “Yes,” she answered honestly. “And though I will not go into detail about that right now, I will offer you an olive branch of trust.” She moved back to her desk and grabbed the back of her chair, coming around her desk and placing it right in front of him. She sat down and crossed her legs, studying him for a long moment. “Most of what I’m about to say is known by those closest to me, and since we will most likely be working closely together, it’s only fair that you know as well. I’m about to put my trust in your hands Mr. Malfoy, so please don’t take anything I’m about to say lightly. I don’t trust easy. I don’t like discussing this stuff even though I’m going to have to in the near future.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “Of course.”

“You want to know why I think I need therapy, even if I don’t seem crazy, and I’m going to explain.” She paused to take a deep breath, before reciting pretty much what she told the other two boys. “I have major daddy issues for one. My dad and mom divorced when I was fifteen and he never really came around much after that. I have trust issues. I’ve had three serious relationships and every one of them has left for one reason or another. Not to mention I’ve been betrayed by people I love several times. I’ve died twice. The first time was only for a few moments, but the second was for almost five months.” Draco sucked in a breath of surprise, his eyes studying her with awed disbelief and something more, perhaps fear.

Buffy nodded in understanding. “I know how it sounds, but it’s true. I woke up in my coffin buried six feet under. I had to claw and dig my way out. It was one of the most frightening things I’ve ever experienced. I still wake up screaming and hyperventilating some nights.” She looked away, hating how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be, but knowing that this was necessary if she wanted to gain his trust when it came time for him to open up and be vulnerable and honest. The bright side was that if Draco didn’t agree to join, Hermione would do that whole Oblivious thing to him, or was it Obliviate? Whatever it was, it would wipe his memory and they could both forget this ever happened.

“I’ve seen dead bodies, so many I’ve forgotten the number. I’ve seen people die in front of me. I was the one who found my mom after she died.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. That was always hard to talk about, but what she was about to say next was even harder and she honestly had no idea what made her do it. She hadn’t told the other two boys, or at least not Blaise. Theo had found out after she’d gotten the voicemail from Spike. He always seemed to find her when she was drinking her sorrows away. She was pretty sure he told the other boy, if the strange almost sad looks Blaise had been throwing her way lately were any indication.

“I was almost raped,” she whispered, grasping the front of her cardigan and rubbing her chest at the memory. 

Draco stiffened, his face going pale from her confession and slowly melting away to shame as his eyes dropped to the floor. She frowned at his response, but continued. “And the worst part is: I still love him.”

Draco’s eyes shot up in horror. She swallowed back the shame at his look and dropped her own eyes. “I don’t know if that means there’s something wrong with me, or if the nature of our relationship to begin with was the catalyst that even got us to that point, _or_ if it was just that what he did after was so beyond what his nature should have allowed that it made it easy to forgive. All I know is that I _did_ forgive him, and a part of me is ashamed that I could.” She kept her head down, feeling the tears build behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut, trying her hardest to will them away. She’d only ever told Faith the whole truth about Spike and what happened between them that year. She had no intention of telling Draco everything, but he could at least know that.

She heard Draco shift before his warm hand found hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He said quietly. “My mother…she…when my father would get angry with her…she would always forgive him though.”

Buffy’s head shot up and it was her turn to look at him in horror. God, as if there wasn’t already enough disturbing shit in this world. Not that she thought the non-magical world was any better. She knew it wasn’t, but at the very least there were options and help available if you sought it out. The wizarding world seemed to have none of this. “You…you know it was wrong right? What your father did, I mean?”

He looked away, pain etched in his expression. “That’s not what I was taught—”

“I didn’t ask what you were taught to believe,” Buffy said sharply, cutting him off. He dropped her hand and flinched. She winced, realizing how that sounded and lowered her voice. “I’m asking you Draco, if you felt what your father did was wrong in here,” she moved forward and brushed her fingers across his sternum where his heart was, “and here?” Her hand moved up to lightly touch his brow.

He was quiet for a long time, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. “Yes,” he finally responded. “I…” His voice cracked and Buffy slid from the chair to her knees, grasping both his hands in hers and looking into the stormy grey depths of his eyes. She watched his jaw clench in frustration. Whether it was from trying to keep what he had to say inside, or if he was trying to force it out, she couldn’t tell. “I always told myself; even if it was an arranged marriage and I ended up hating my wife…I always promised myself I would never hurt her.”

She squeezed his hand lightly, and he squeezed back. She didn’t know if he was even aware he did it. He looked lost, like he had no clue why he had even said that. She understood. “That’s good Draco. What you’re doing right now, it’s good.” She shook her head. “Holding this kind of stuff in, never talking about it, it eats away at us. It becomes like poison in our mind. It makes us depressed, angry, and bitter. It’s not healthy.” 

~)0(~

Draco’s heart was pounding. He felt sick. He didn’t know why he had divulged any of that. It was getting harder and harder for him to Occlude his emotions lately, and with this girl they seemed to shatter under her knowing looks and blunt honesty. He squeezed his eyes shut, his grip tightening in her hands.

“It’s okay.” She whispered, and he wanted to cry because it _wasn’t_ okay. Nothing was okay, not since long before the war.

The last of his shields came crashing down then. The memories he’d been holding at bay for years suffocating him as they burst through the surface of his mind. He couldn’t breathe, he felt like he was drowning. Flashes of his father’s rage filled face played out behind his eyes. The first time he had hit him when he was six, his mother being dragged from the room by her hair for allowing her son to play with his toys for too long. Her tears and bruises after one of their fights. The first time his father used the Cruciatus on him for bringing home a grade lower than Granger’s. How many times he was beaten those years at Hogwarts when one of the Golden Trio would best him at something.

Then the war, Voldemort, the Mark, Dumbledore, Granger screaming on his drawing room floor. A Muggle boy, Draco’s limbs trembling from the after-effects of the Cruciatus, _“Do it Malfoy, or the next person I level my wand at will be your mother,”_ a flash of green, lifeless accusing eyes. Spells flying, explosions ripping through solid stone. Fire, so much fire. Crabbe. Bodies, so many bodies, all with lifeless eyes like the Muggle boy.

He screamed, his magic exploding out of him like a wave, knocking everything in Buffy’s office against the walls, except the girl herself. She was still sat in front of him on the floor; her hands so tightly gripped in his he could feel his bones bend. The door flew open, banging against the wall. A terrified Granger stood in the doorway wand drawn, wide eyes taking in the chaos.

Buffy never looked away from him. “Hermione,” she said in an urgent voice that left no room for argument. “Calming Draught or Valium, which ever you find first. Then get Blaise and Theo. I need to know what just happened.”

“It’s his Occlumency. He’s been Occluding too long.” Hermione said automatically.

“Just get the boys and the drugs,” Buffy barked, “now!”

Draco felt more than heard Hermione leave the room. His breaths came out fast and uneven, he couldn’t get enough air. His entire body felt like it was made of lead. Every sound was muffled, as if he were underwater. Nimble fingers loosened his tie and yanked it free of his collar, undoing the top buttons of his shirt for him. It wasn’t enough.

“Draco, honey, you’re having a panic attack.” He heard her say, but the words had no meaning to him.

He felt small, strong hands on him, running through his hair, rubbing his back, touching the side of his neck. He started shaking, pain exploding in his chest from lack of oxygen. He couldn’t get enough air.

“Draco,” Buffy said firmly. “Draco, look at me.” He didn’t know if it was her words that helped bring everything back into focus or if his eyes had been closed the whole time. “That’s right,” she soothed. “Now watch me. One, two, three,” she counted before taking in a large gulp of air, which he mimicked. “That’s right, now release.” She blew out the breath, and he followed suit. “It’s okay,” she whispered softly. “Just keep breathing. You’re doing fine.”

He didn’t know how long they sat there, her crouched in front of him reminding him how to breathe. Telling him he would be okay. That it would be over soon. It could have been an hour, but was more than likely only a few moments.

“What’s wrong with me?” He choked on a sob, tears flooding his eyes.

“Shh,” she hushed, pulling him into her arms. “Nothing, nothing is wrong with you. You were in a war, that’s all. It messes with everyone’s head.”

He wished it was that simple, but it wasn’t. Severus warned him not to constantly block painful memories, that it could be hazardous, but there were just some things he hadn’t been willing to face. Memories he never wanted to remember, a good portion of his childhood locked behind an impenetrable steel wall that now laid as a shattered ruin in his mind.

He looked around at what his burst of magic had done to this lovely woman’s office. She had been so wonderful to him, not seeming to judge or accuse as so many in the magical world did. He felt nothing but shame for what had just transpired. “I…I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have never come here.”

“I think,” Buffy said disengaging from the hug to look him in the face. “You might be exactly where you’re supposed to be. I may not understand everything that just happened, but I know what someone having a personal crisis looks like. And Draco, you need to be around people who understand.”

He shook his head. No, he shouldn’t be. He was a danger and a liability to these people. He shouldn’t be around anyone right now. “But…I could hurt someone. Look what I’m capable of Miss Summers.”

“Buffy.” She corrected.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“It’s Buffy. I insist that all people who work for me call me by my first name.” She said with a small smile on her lips. She shrugged, “except the younger Slayers, they just usually call me ma’am.”

The sound of a throat being cleared caught both their attention. They both looked in the direction and his eyes widened in disbelief. Hermione stood in between Blaise and Theo, a sight he never imagined seeing in a million years.

“Zabini?” He gasped. “Nott? Fucking hell! I thought you were in Azkaban.”

“Mate,” Theo nodded. “Thought it might be you.”

Zabini grinned. “I see Buffy’s given you the royal treatment already, if this office is anything to go by. What the hell did you say to her anyway?”

“Actually,” Buffy said standing up. “I had nothing to do with this.” Her eyes then focused on Hermione. “Did you bring it?”

“Yes,” the girl nodded. “I brought them both.” Hermione tossed the items to Buffy.

She caught them with ease, turning back to Draco. “Alright,” she nodded, holding up each bottle: “Muggle or magical?”

He looked at her surprised, studying each bottle in hand. He recognized the Calming Draught immediately. “What’s the Muggle one do?” He asked, voice hoarse. He could see what looked like small white rocks inside.

“The same as the potion, takes a little longer to kick in but it lasts longer.” She answered.

“I’ll take the Muggle one.” He said, not surprised when he heard Nott’s exclamation.

“What the fuck Malfoy?!”

“Oh fuck off, Nott! People fucking change!” Draco snapped. Fuck, why couldn’t any of them see what holding on to the old ways did to them? It was truly fucking pathetic.

“How can you possibly fucking say that?” Nott shouted. “ _You_ , of perfect fucking pureblood nobility. Daddy’s fucking golden boy!”

“Theo,” Buffy warned, but it was too late. Draco was up, shooting out of his chair with rage coursing through him.

“You fucking bastard!” He tackled Nott, slamming him against the wall, pinning him there. “You want to know why?” Draco sneered through gritted teeth. “You want to know why I’m fucking here and not back at the Manor? I’m guessing you haven’t made it out into wizarding society since the war.” Theo struggled against him, wand sliding into his hand. But Draco anticipated it and knocked it from his grasp.

“Get the fuck off me, Malfoy!” Theo screamed.

It all ended the next second. Buffy’s firm grip yanked Draco away from Nott and he found himself slammed into a book case. He panted, ready to charge at the other Slytherin again.

“That’s enough!” Buffy’s voice rang out, harsh and angry. “The both of you!”

The warning was enough to stop him, but not enough for him to stay quiet. “It’s all lies! All of it, everything they taught us. Muggles aren’t inferior. They aren’t like animals or any of that shit they said. I’ve seen it myself,” Draco snarled. “They may not have magic, but they don’t need it. They do fine just on their own. If any one of our families had taken a moment to step out of our uptight pureblood bubble, we might have seen that before that stupid bloody war.”

“I joined the fucking war because of you, you arsehole!” Theo roared charging, but Blaise was there to stop him, holding him back.

Draco lost all his fight in that moment. He stared at Theo in shock, his entire body going numb. Then, as he thought about it, he could only shake his head in disbelief. “Then you were a fucking idiot,” he said quietly. “If you couldn’t see what taking that fucking Mark did to me, you were a fucking idiot.”

“But you said—” Theo started, some of the fight draining out of him.

“I know what I said. I was also a stupid fucking sixteen-year-old kid.” Draco shook his head, a humorless chuckle falling from my lips. “Truth was I was scared bloody shitless.”

Theo seemed to deflate at his words. He looked around at everyone in the room, shook his head in disgust, picked up his wand, and swept out the door.

Buffy sighed, “well that at least answers one of my questions.” Finally opening the bottle of valium and dropping one her palm. “Here, take this, swallow don’t chew.” She handed him the bottle of water that sat on her desk with the pill.

“What question?” Draco asked before following her instructions.

“If you’re still a blood purist?” Buffy shrugged.

“No, definitely not.” Draco answered.

“I think you may have broken Granger.” Blaise’s voice rang out.

Draco turned then, noticing Hermione staring at him with wide eyes, like she was seeing him for the first time. He smirked, “sorry love, not interested.”

She shook her head. Seeming to come back to herself and scowled, shooting a stinging hex at him. “You’re still an arse!”

“Never said I wasn’t.” He replied, his smirk stretching into a grin.

“All right, I think that’s enough for today.” Buffy cut in, before their verbal sparring match could begin.

“Blaise, could you please show Draco to his room? We’ll continue the interview after we’ve all gotten some rest. Hermione, a word please?”

~)0(~

Buffy sighed. “Well, I feel like an idiot. I assumed Theo and Draco were friends.”

Hermione nodded. “So did I.” At Buffy’s raised eyebrow she clarified. “Well, that is to say, they were friends back at school. I had no idea Draco had gone through such drastic changes in the last six years however.”

Buffy nodded. “I’m actually relieved to find out. It’s gonna make this whole situation go a lot smoother.”

“Indeed.” Hermione agreed.

“So what happened with Draco? Why did he have a magical freak out like that?” She asked. God, she hoped he wasn’t too volatile to work around the Slayers. She’d hate to only have him working in research with Giles. Then again, he might knock Giles into a book case a few times, could be funny.

“I think he’s been Occluding to long.” She answered. And as if reading Buffy’s mind, she added: “He should be okay if he stops for a couple of weeks.”

Buffy smiled humorlessly at the young woman. “Pretend for a minute I don’t know what Occluding is.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in embarrassment and she blushed. “Sorry. Occlumency is a form of magic for safeguarding the mind. It protects against Legilimens—a mind reader, from accessing thoughts, feelings, and memories.”

“He didn’t seem like he was blocking feelings.” Buffy observed.

“No,” Hermione agreed. “If I had to guess, I would think its memories he’s been blocking the most. I know if I had his ability, I would probably use it for that purpose as well.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “I probably would too.”

Hermione looked at her sympathetically.

“This is such a fucking mess,” Buffy said throwing up her hands. “Every single one of these boys has sustained some form of abuse I can’t even begin to imagine.” She sighed. “I have no idea why you, Maggie, and Willow think teaching these boys Earth Magic will help them in any way.”

“If they learned it properly, it could be a way for them to understand how everything is connected, how everything is here for a reason. It could also help the Slayers greatly in the future.”

Buffy sighed. “I expect a full report and a plan of action on my desk before anything is implemented. I also expect you to inform Kingsley. I’m not having this shit blowup in my face.”

Hermione frowned, but nodded curtly. “Of course.”

“Good,” Buffy said. “Now get to dinner. I’m sure Willow is missing you.”

Hermione looked like a dear caught in headlights, and Buffy smirked.

A blush formed on Hermione’s cheeks before she cleared her throat. “Would you like me to set your office to rights before I go?”

“That would be helpful.”

Hermione nodded and with a swish and a few flicks everything was as it was. “Good evening Buffy.”

“Yeah, you too,” Buffy said absently, staring at the black tie that she had thrown haphazardly on the floor. She really needed this week to end. Buffy picked up the bottle of Valium and popped one in her mouth. After today (this week), she truly needed it.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my amazing beta, as always Mizwax. She really helps me when I doubt myself.
> 
> Thank you all who have left comments, you guys really brighten my day.
> 
> This chapter is much lighter than the last one, I hope you all enjoy it and please leave a review.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Three

Draco awoke early that morning with a gasp, covered in sweat and his heart pounding in his chest. Nightmares of empty accusing eyes and flashing green had riddled his dreams throughout the night. It was no wonder with everything that had happened the day before, but it was an inconvenience he could have lived without. He was extremely tempted to try and throw back up his shields but didn’t dare, not after what happened. He wanted this job, no matter what he had to do for it. Not only was it an amazing opportunity, but it was his chance to prove to himself and the world he was nothing like his father.

He and Blaise had spoken for quite some time the evening before and he understood a little more now of what was to be expected of him. Buffy planned to start training him as a Watcher. Apparently, there were now more Slayers than any of them could handle at the moment. Buffy and her group having activated all of them the year prior. To make matters worse, the original Council’s main headquarters was destroyed in a blast that had killed most of the Watchers a few months before the activation spell. The Watchers who did survive where already stationed at central hubs around the globe with their own handful of Slayers to train. That left Buffy and Giles with the majority of the girls.

He remembered that blast. He’d been in the same park he apparated to the night he found out his father was getting out of Azkaban. It had a beautiful view of the city and he had seen the fireball shoot into the sky, a dark plume of smoke sailing into the twilit evening. He’d asked a passing Muggle if they knew what it could be, but the Muggle had only shrugged, mentioning something about a war and something called the Taliban, which Draco knew nothing about. Come to find out, the blast had nothing to with any Muggle war, but a much darker and sinister one.

When Blaise had come to them they hadn’t had any suitable living arrangements yet. They were staying on Council owned land that consisted of a farm house, a barn, and an old mill that was in disrepair. Most of the girls lived in tents on the property, and even though there was scarcely any room, Buffy had given him food and a place to stay without too many questions.

The Ministry had struck a deal with Giles and Buffy when they discovered Blaise was living amongst them. In return for a central command center—or as Blaise had put it, _‘a big fucking castle with strong enough wards to hide the lot of them and keep evil out at the same time,’—_ they had agreed to take in the younger followers of Voldemort. The ones who sought work in the wizarding community and couldn’t find it. They also agreed to try to rehabilitate and reform the ones getting out of prison, leaving it in the hands of the Council itself on how exactly to go about it.

In other words, they wanted to erase the stain Voldemort and his followers had smeared on the Ministry’s reputation, and they were using Buffy and her Council to do it. Kingsley was on a very slippery slope here. If the Prophet got a hold of something like this it could be career suicide. Not that Draco had any interest in revealing this little secret project, but someone like Theo might. Then again, this might be the most deviously and brilliantly concocted plan in the wizarding world. Who would believe a former Death Eater? And even if they did, the castle was outside of a Muggle village and the closest wizarding community was hours away. The wards around the castle were ancient and strong, and the castle itself had been here for eight-hundred years. There’s no way the Prophet would willing get close enough to break the Statute of Secrecy.

Blaise and Draco had also discussed the therapy. Neither of them being very partial to the idea, but Buffy had assured Blaise it would be with people under Council employ who would be very discreet and at least understand in part what they may have been through. Truth was that Draco was fucking terrified about talking to a stranger about some of the shit he saw. How do you tell someone you were a prejudice piece of shit that was willing to follow a snake-faced psychopath into hell? He needed to understand this more, and he wondered if they had a library. 

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. The room they had put him in was a bit small and sparse, but as Blaise pointed out it was better than sharing a room, as some of the Slayers in the west wing did. He yawned again, forcing himself to get out of bed. His bare feet hit cold stone and he hissed, quickly placing a warming charm on them.

He stood, gathering his clothing, toiletries, and a towel from his trunk before heading out of the room towards the bathroom Blaise had shown him last night. As he reached the door it opened, and his mouth went completely dry. His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

Buffy stood there in the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen. For a woman who was small in stature, she had the longest most tantalizing legs he ever laid eyes on. His eyes slowly moved up to the tight camisole that hugged her breasts and… _oh bloody hell_ , he could see the outline of her nipples through it.

He swallowed, eyes shooting up to her face as she eyed him sleepily. “Draco?” She combed her finger through her hair, squinting at him in the dim light of the hall. “It’s early.”

“Yes,” he agreed licking his lips, thanking Merlin she hadn’t noticed his perusal. “I couldn’t sleep anymore.” He saw it then; her eyes lingered a little too long on his bare chest. He wasn’t sure if she was studying his scar or admiring his physique until they began to slowly follow a path down to his stomach. He bit his lip, willing his body not to respond. He was only in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms and there was no way he could hide an erection from her.

Buffy blinked and shook her head, a blush infusing her cheeks. “What time is it?”

“A little after five,” he whispered.

She nodded, noticing the bundle of items he held in his hands. “If you wanna wait on the shower, we all go running at six.” She yawned sleepily and shrugged. “There’s no point in taking one now if you’re just gonna get all sweaty.” 

She was adorable when she was tired. “Is this something that will be required as a Watcher as well?” He asked, his patented Malfoy smirk in place.

She looked at him for a long time, blinking in confusion. Then her lips pursed. “Is that a Slytherin thing?”

“I beg your pardon?” Now it was him who was confused. He hadn’t been overtly rude in any way.

Her expression changed from one of irritation to one of guilt. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled-for.” She apologized, sighing. “I just spent a good part of last night and this morning trying to find out why Theo behaved the way he did to you and your new non-prejudicy ways.” She sighed again. “You guys react to things similarly.”

“You mean I act like an enormous prat?” Draco asked.

She snorted. “No, I mean you guys have a tendency to take an offering of kindness and distort it into something it’s not.” She rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache coming on. “Look. Yes I would like all Watchers to stay in shape, but it’s not a requirement. If you want to be like all the other Watchers of before, it’s up to you. But you won’t be considered for active Watcher duty if you don’t stay in physical shape.”

She didn’t realize how much he had always wanted to be a Pro-Quidditch player when he was young. If she even knew what Quidditch was, that is. He still ran an hour a day to keep his legs strong for the broom. “I have no problem with running. I usually run every day.”

She frowned, annoyance clear on her face, her eyes dropping back down to his chest in realization. “Then why the hell did you ask that?”

He grinned. “Because I’m an enormous prat.”

Her eyes flashed in amusement and she snorted appreciatively. “Well, you’re honest. I’ll give you that.” She bit her lip and his eyes were immediately drawn to the plump pink flesh. She shifted nervously, a blush forming on her cheeks as she added: “I’m going to have a coffee before I go out, would you like to join me?” 

“That sounds lovely.” He said, flashing a winning smile. Merlin, she was cute. It had been years since he felt this kind of instant attraction towards a woman, if he ever had. Sure there had been girls through the years. He and Pansy had been on and off through Hogwarts. He had even been with Daphne once or twice in those years. He had a few one-offs with some Muggle girls he’d met at random pubs when he started visiting London, most of which were sleazy affairs in back alleys or in the tight confines of their automobiles. It had been thrilling and fun, but they had never been able to hold his attention longer than a pretty face and a quick shag. _This_ girl however, held his attention and kept it. 

She smiled shyly at him and nodded. “Okay, well let me go change. There should be some sweatpants and a tee-shirt in your bureau if you need something appropriate to work out in. The size should be right, but if not just let me know.” 

“I can transfigure them if they don’t fit.” He reminded her.

“Oh, right.” She said frowning. “I forget sometimes. Your magic is for everyday use.”

He raised an eyebrow in interest. “Hmm, and I’m guessing Earth Magic is not?”

“No, not really.” She shifted. “I mean meditation and calling on Gaia kinda is, but just using it for frivolous things is pretty frowned upon.” She sighed. “It’s a slippery slope if you don’t respect the power.” She shook her head, changing subjects. “Anyway, meet me back out here in ten. I know you haven’t gotten a full tour yet. The least I could do is show you where the kitchen and dining hall is.”

“Sounds perfect.” He said as she began to walk around him. He watched her walk down the hall, his head tilting, eyes immediately traveling to her arse. _Fucking hell_ , was there anything on this girl that wasn’t perfect? 

Right before she entered a room, which was only two doors down from his own, she turned back just in time to catch him admiring her. He watched a blush infuse her cheeks once more as she fumbled with the door handle and almost tripped into the room once it swung open. The door closed a little harder than was necessary, and he blew out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Merlin’s saggy balls, this girl was going be the death of him.

~)0(~

Buffy leaned against the door, her eyes fluttering shut. Dear God, he was beautiful. The logical part of her brain warned what an absolute bad idea pursuing anything with him would be, but for once she wanted it to shut the hell up. He wasn’t Spike. That was more than clear now. His body shape, while similar, was more youthful and not nearly as chiseled. He had a runner’s body, smooth and defined. The only blemishes she could see anywhere on him were the jagged scars that marred his chest, and the ugly tattoo that represented being in Voldemort’s ranks. He looked agile, which was good. He would make a good fighter, if he wished to be.

She bit her lip. She needed to get ahold of herself. What the hell was she thinking inviting him to have coffee? Luckily, she didn’t think asking a British wizard to have coffee with her translated exactly as it did in American. Thank God. But she was playing a dangerous game here. She was going to end up being his boss. The ethics of it alone could have devastating effects, especially if they broke-up.

_‘Okay calm down Buffy, you’re getting way ahead of yourself here. It’s just coffee, it’s not like you asked him to sleep in your room.’_

And that was a picture she absolutely did not need in her mind right now. She shook her head, trying to clear the image of them wrapped up together on her mattress. His chest pressed into her back as she guided those long finger in between her _—‘Stop it.’_ She needed to stop this now. What was she thinking? He most likely didn’t even see her like that anyway.

Even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie. She was old enough now to recognize when a man was interested in her. From what she had seen in the hallway he wasn’t just interested, he was eager. Ugh! This was going to be so annoyingly hard. And there her brain went again. Jesus, was she really that sex deprived? It had been awhile, sure, but it had never bothered her until now.

She screwed her eyes shut and rubbed her hand down her face. Okay, she could do this. She’d just get dressed and they could have a cup of coffee, and nothing would happen. They would be fine. They’d go for their run and it would be fine. She was an adult after all. She didn’t let her hormones rule her the way they used to. She could do this.

Buffy quickly dressed, throwing on a black pair of yoga pants and a plain white t-shirt. She spent a few minutes in the mirror trying to decide how she wanted to wear her hair, before she rolled her eyes at herself. She was pathetic, she was absolutely pathetic. She scowled at herself in the mirror, before throwing it up in a messy ponytail. She threw on her trainers next and was out the door, only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw him. The shirt they had left him fit almost too well, and _dear God_ , the sweats were hanging low on his hips, much too low. She gulped. Oh this was bad, very, very bad.

“Shall we?” Her voice squeaked. Ugh, she was such a spaz.

His lips twitched like he knew exactly what she was thinking, and she hated him a little bit right then. It was also the proverbial bucket of cold water she needed to get her ramped thoughts in check.

“After you,” he gestured.

~)0(~

Buffy could feel him watching her as she brewed the coffee, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. He was sitting at a small wooden table in the large kitchen, and even from that distance she could feel his eyes roving over her.

“How do you take yours?” She asked, turning in time to catch him staring at her ass. If it was anyone else her first reaction would have been to call them a pig, but his subsequent embarrassment stopped her.

He blinked, his eyes shooting up to her face, a light blush infusing his cheeks at getting caught. “I’m sorry, what?”

She raised an eyebrow and smirked, her eyes sparkling when his cheeks reddened further. “I asked how you take your coffee.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Cream, one sugar.”

She nodded and went to work preparing it. When she finished, she brought the mugs over to the table and then went back to grab a bag of biscotti. She sat across from him, taking a cookie out of the bag and dipping it in her coffee. He watched her curiously, and then copied her actions, his eyes lighting in surprise when he tasted it.

She smiled. “So what are your plans here Draco?”

He blinked, “I’m sorry?”

She wanted to laugh at the deer in the headlights look he shot her. “I’m asking what you would like to do here as a Watcher. It’s not all about training the Slayers. Though that’s where we need bodies most at the moment. There’s a research department.” She said, circling the ring of her cup with her finger before taking a sip. “It’s a lot of reading and planning for future apocalypses. Can you understand any ancient languages?” See? This was good. She could totally be mature and responsible, and not act like some starved sex kitten.

“Greek and Latin,” he answered.

“That’s good.” She nodded. “It will make the training go by a lot easier if you do choose to become an active Watcher, meaning you are responsible for a group of girls. The training is much more intense. You will need to basically take a crash course on demon lore with Giles, it will be several hours a day, five days a week until he is satisfied you’re ready. Your other half of the day will be spent with me or one of the other Slayers training physically. You will be expected to learn different fighting and self-defense techniques, as well as weapons training. It will be hard, it will be tiring, but in the end it will save your life.”

She studied him a long time. He didn’t look worried, which was reassuring and disconcerting at the same time. “Active Watchers are also expected to go on missions with their Slayers. That’s another reason for the intense training. You will be out in the field fighting demons by their side. It’s why it’s so imperative that you can take care of yourself. They can’t worry about you while fighting off a horde of hell spawn, it will get one or all of them killed.”

Draco nodded. “I’m a fairly good at dueling already; I can’t imagine the physical part being anything I can’t handle.”

Buffy frowned. One of the things she had noticed about these wizards was that they relied way too heavily on their wands. There was a cockiness and superiority about it that could very well be their downfall if they didn’t know what to do if disarmed. She had demonstrated to Theo on more than one occasion how easy it was to physically disarm him. If any of them went out in the field relying mostly on their magic and not taking the physical part seriously, they could all end up with a very serious case of being dead.

Instead of saying all that though, she said, “that may be so, but until you have the basic moves down to muscle memory I’m going to ask you to refrain from integrating magic into the routine until I feel you’re ready.”

He seemed to take that in stride, dipping another of the cookies in his coffee before answering only with, “fair enough.”

“There’s something else I need to ask you.” She wasn’t sure if she should even broach the subject today, but after yesterday she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. “I need to ask you to refrain from using that occluding thing you do, at least for a while.”

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but Buffy cut him off. “I’m not asking you to stop using it all together. I…just…if you do need to, if whatever you’ve been blocking becomes too much to handle on your own, please come to me. If you have to use it I understand, but I would like to know regardless. It will at the very least keep me and the others prepared if something like what happened yesterday happens again.”

He thought on it a few moments, taking another a sip of his coffee, before nodding in acceptance.

“Good. I also don’t want you using it with your therapist either. They need to be able to properly evaluate you, and they can’t do that if you’re magically blocking memories and emotions.” She added, and then jumped when a loud voice rang out down the hall.

“Yo, B? You in here?”

~)0(~

Draco watched Buffy start, and then a small smile slid on her face when she recognized the voice. The next moment Draco was presented with a face and he gulped. A brunette with dark eyes and a voluptuous body walked in. She had on a tight pair of jeans and a shirt that rode high on her midriff. Her lips were painted in a dark burgundy red and her eyes were rimmed with kohl. Where Buffy was light and feminine, this girl was dark and rough. Her eyes sizing him up with a predatory gleam that had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Faith,” Buffy said standing and giving the brunette a hug. “I thought you weren’t getting back until next week?”

The woman shrugged, disengaging from the hug and tossing a duffle bag unceremoniously on the floor with a loud clank. “Couldn’t spend another week with Kennedy, not unless you want me doing time again.”

Buffy snorted. “That bad, huh?”

Faith chuckled. “I’ll tell ya, I’ve always thought you had a stake shoved too far up your ass when you were younger, but I take back everything I ever said. You ain’t got nothin’ on that girl.”

Draco watched Buffy roll her eyes at the girl and shake her head. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”

“Anyway,” Faith said, ignoring the comment. “I heard about what happened.” She shook her head. “Man, I knew Angel could be a douche, but I didn’t realize he was stupid enough to take on W&H all by himself.”

Draco watched closely as Buffy’s face fell at the brunette’s words. Her eyes dimmed and sadness washed over her features. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Angel’s done a lot of things this year that have been questionable.”

Faith gave Buffy a sympathetic look, and then promptly turned to look him over once again. “Speaking of stupid vampires with a soul, who’s the Spike-a-like?”

Draco didn’t know whether to be offended by the euphemism or not. The vampire with a soul thing, however, more than caught his attention. So, Buffy had dated a vampire? Well that was interesting. It explained a lot as well. He didn’t understand her comment yesterday about the man’s nature, but now it made perfect sense. It also meant Buffy didn’t mind someone being capable of a little darkness. That put points in his favor at least. He frowned at his one track mind, mentally shaking his head as he caught the tail end of her introduction.

“—is Draco. He’s a new recruit. Draco meet Faith.”

He held out his hand and shook the brunette’s, noticing Buffy eyeing him with a frown. Then he remembered their introductions yesterday and couldn’t help the small wink he threw her way. Her cheeks immediately turned pink at his forwardness and her green eyes looked anywhere but at him.

“Nice to meet you.” He said, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the shy blonde’s.

Faith noticed immediately and a sly grin fell over her lips. “Well, well, well, aren’t you a Casanova?” She turned to Buffy. “Don’t look now B, I think this one might be in love.”

Both Buffy and Draco managed to identically scowl at her at the exact same moment. She just chuckled at their combined reactions. “Too bad,” she said, addressing him as if he wasn’t staring daggers at her. “You’re kinda cute.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Guess I’ll just have to keep using Blaise to scratch my itch.”

“Faith!” Buffy sighed in exasperation, shooting him an apologetic look.

The brunette went on; changing topics quicker than you could change a pair of shoes. “So, we got a game plan for dealing with W&H?” She asked, heading towards a counter and opening a container that looked like it was filled with chocolate and tearing off a nearby hunk of bread. Draco looked on disgusted as she proceeded to dip the bread in the chocolate and eat. Did other people use that?

Buffy seemed to be frowning at her actions too but didn’t make a comment on it. “Giles says it’s a no go. He seems to think it would be suicide. Not to mention, according to him, they’re a necessary evil.”

“Huh,” Faith said with her mouth full. “How’s that?”

Buffy shrugged. “Because their power comes from human evils rather than demons. I guess when there was only one Slayer, Wolfram and Hart took care of a lot of the blowback we couldn’t handle.” She shook her head. “It’s all about keeping the balance I guess.”

“Yeah, but B that doesn’t make any sense. We got a ton of Slayer’s now. Why would we need to keep a cesspool like Wolfram and Hart around?” She shook her head. “And now we just lost two immortal Champions to those assholes. If you ask me, they’re getting the better deal.”

“I agree.” She sighed, “but Giles is afraid that by activating the Slayers we might have somehow upset the balance. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yeah, well he’s been waiting for a year. He needs to cool it with that shit or he’s going to jinx us.” Faith said, grabbing another hunk of bread from the loaf.

“Preaching to the choir on that one,” Buffy nodded.

Draco listened as the two girls talked; almost seeming to forget he was there. It normally would have bothered him, but the conversation was fascinating. The way they both spoke of apocalypses and upsetting the balance between good and evil like they were discussing the morning paper was something he never thought he would ever hear. It was no wonder Buffy was the leader. She was incredible at it. Where Faith seemed careless and unhinged in a lot of things, Buffy was measured and calculating. She kept on a cool exterior even when the topics were hard to discuss.

He watched her move to the chair she’d been sitting in before Faith arrived and unceremoniously flop into it. “Oh I forgot to tell you. Guess who I had to call because of Angel’s little disappearing act?”

“Who?” Faith asked.

“Riley,” Buffy answered simply.

Faith choked, “why the fuck you have to do that?”

“Because MACUSA was no help in sanctioning a cover up, so I had to go through the U.S. government instead.” She said, irritation clear in her voice.

Faith looked at her a long moment, before shaking her head. “That’s it. I knew a came back early for a reason. I’m talking to V and Rona; you are taking the night off tonight.”

“What? No I—” She started to say, but Faith cut her off.

“B, you work harder than anyone here. In fact, you’ve taken a total of one day off since last year. You need a night off. It’s a good thing I brought Jack, Don, and Grey with me all the way from the States.” Then she turned to Draco and mock whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “She likes to dance and lip sync when she’s drunk.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at that revelation.

“Jesus Christ, Faith.” Buffy whined, slapping her hand on her forehead, her cheeks going red. “Look,” she said slowly. “I would love to, but with Theo—”

“So? Invite him too.” Faith said.

“He’s on probation.” Buffy reminded her.

“And? I got drunk when I was in jail.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s the big?”

Buffy huffed, knowing she was fighting a losing battle here. “Fine, but if anyone pukes you’re cleaning it up.”

Faith grinned turning her attention back to Draco. “You in lover boy?”

Draco looked between Faith and Buffy, not quite sure what exactly he was agreeing to. He knew there would be booze however, so that in all honesty made his decision an easy one. “Yeah, okay.”

~)0(~

He flopped onto the grass, his entire body burning from exertion. Bloody hell, he thought _he_ was competitive? He had no idea how wrong he was. Buffy had pushed him the whole way. Anytime he managed to gain any ground on her she would pick up a little more speed and be out in front of him again.

On the bright side, whoever invented those pants she was wearing needed to be sent an Order of Merlin. They were the only reason he hadn’t collapsed in a heap long ago. His eyes kept homing in on them and his body wouldn’t let him lose sight of the prize. Not that he was actually getting a prize, but watching her cute arse bounce in the black stretch material was reward enough.

Buffy sat down next to him, passing him a bottle of water. “You’re fast.” She complimented.

“Not nearly as fast as you.” He replied between gasps of air, taking a drink of water.

“Yes.” She agreed, “but I have Slayer speed on my side.”

Draco studied her a long time, finally feeling comfortable enough to ask a question that had been burning on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “What’s it like?”

“What? Being the Slayer?” At his subtle nod, she bit her lip. “I mean, the power’s great. The speed, the stamina, the healing.” She shrugged, sighing sadly. “The responsibility part though, not so much.” She took a sip of her water, before continuing, “I’ve been fighting nonstop since I was fifteen, and have all these people who rely on me. When I fail I don’t just fail myself, I fail the people around me too. People get hurt, people die and it’s all my fault because I made a bad call, or I made the wrong move. Even with all the Slayers now it’s still the same. I’m the oldest living Slayer, so everyone looks to me, you know?” She shook her head, “Honestly, it’s just really fucking lonely.”

He watched her sadly. He could relate to that feeling. “I’ve felt that way before.” He said quietly. “Not exactly the same, but I definitely know what it feels like to have people relying on you and fail them.”

“How?” She asked, surprised.

He held out his left arm, displaying the tattoo. “When I got this, I was sixteen.” He admitted. “I was so stupid back then. My father was in Azkaban for trying to steal a prophecy from the Ministry at the behest of Voldemort, and because of his failure we became shunned amongst the Death Eaters.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I thought receiving the Mark was an honor, and my task was just as sacred.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

“I was never given the task because I was worthy.” He said angrily, a sneer making an appearance on his face. “I was given the task because it was almost certain I would fail. It was a punishment you see, for my father’s failure. The more I tried to complete the task, the more I realized how much danger me and my family were in.”

“What was the task?” Buffy asked, holding her breath.

“To kill one of the most powerful wizards alive, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.” He shrugged. “I realized rather quickly that if I failed my whole family would be murdered. It was suddenly my responsibility to protect my mother, and I almost did. Except when I got up to the top of the Astronomy Tower, I couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t fight back, he let me disarm him. And when I had the chance, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Buffy sighed, picking at a few blades of grass. They didn’t speak for a long time until finally she said softly, “I guess you do understand. Maybe not to the same extent, but I think you get it.”

“Would you change it?” Draco asked, thinking about how much he wished he could go back.

Buffy snorted humorlessly. “I think that ship has sailed.” She said, looking at him through her eyelashes. “I know too much now to go back and not have my powers but know everything I do. I can’t just turn that part of who I am off, not anymore.” She shrugged. “Maybe if I had no memory and was just never called. Then again, I wouldn’t be who I am today if that happened.”

They watched as several of the girls started to head towards the castle, a bell ringing off in the distance. “Sorry about Faith by the way, she…umm…she doesn’t have a filter between her brain and her mouth.”

He chuckled. “She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” He smiled slyly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I mean the love thing is rather soon, don’t you think?” Then he turned fully, biting his lip and looking her up and down in a way that made it perfectly clear how much he wanted her.

Her face turned bright red at his words, but instead of acknowledging his advances she stood. “We…umm…we should head back.” And then she was gone, leaving Draco with a smug smile on his face and a view he could watch for days.


End file.
